


The Same Bed

by yarost



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, I have no excuses, M/M, Mild Daddy Kink, Oral Sex, Porn With Very Little Plot, Rough Sex, mentions of: vaginal sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-12
Updated: 2017-04-12
Packaged: 2018-10-18 05:10:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10609923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yarost/pseuds/yarost
Summary: The truth is, Negan wants them both in his bed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I first discussed a threesome between Negan, Rick and Michonne with Hatterized who wrote the beautiful _Strange Bedfellows_. Mine is way messier because I lost control of my life and also because I don't know how to correctly plot things so I wrote filth instead. In this fic, Negan gets into Rick's pants but he is adamant about his want to get into Michonne's too. I ship Richonne and Regan too much to be able to choose just one of them.

They are in the porch of Rick’s little suburban apple-pie illusion when Michonne passes, carrying a dead deer over her shoulders.

Rick looks to her, the goddamn love sick fool, as if she has gold beneath her feet, as if the sun rises and sleeps with her smile. They don’t make it obvious, but Negan sees what others miss and there it is, the one thing he cannot pillage from Rick Grimes' home: their lovely, strong-as-iron-and-blood bond. Precious stuff it is, and Negan hates that he can’t touch it, that he can’t own it like everything else in this new, sick world.

So, there she is, a goddess in her own right, and how would he have her? He would let the madness overflow just a bit, just enough to enjoy her nails on his chest so deep it would bring blood about. If he’s to bow down, let it be to beauty, ferocious as it comes. Let it be to hers, let her hands be the single witness. There’s a curse dangling from his tongue. Negan would let her have him like she probably does Rick. The laugh comes easily just like the semi tightening his pants because he can picture it and fuck, it’s delicious. There’s no way Rick doesn’t worship her in the bedroom with everything he has, like she’s the last good thing on this Earth. Negan would, too.

Then there’s Rick, and things get clearer here, even though he’s a dude and Negan hasn’t fucked __those__ since he was in college. Rick’s beauty makes it so fucking easy, almost mandatory. __Here’s how he would have him.__ Gentler than Grimes would have thought, but not tenderly. In this, he would ruin himself to Rick as the black-and-white villain, in the pleasure he would arouse in that lean, scarred body he would ruin Rick too, he would teach him eagerness and just how __good__ the big bad wolf can be with his big hands, his big eyes, his hunger to match. It’s impossible not to laugh when he thinks about Rick looking at himself in the mirror after, knowing he liked it, knowing it was Negan that showed him a part of him he dared not to look.

"Oh, look at her go. She fucking hates my guts!" That deep, hungry glee in his laughter. He wraps an arm around Rick's shoulders as if they were buddies, as if he was in the joke. "Nothing sexier than a angry gal, don't you agree Rick? They fuck harder when they're mad at you. And, ohhhh-boy, ain't you a lucky son of a bitch? __Look at her__." He grabs Rick's chin, reminiscing, that first time when Rick was his and the earth smelled of flesh blood and he had been fed with the bread of victory. He grabs him, making the younger man look at Michonne, as if he needs a reason too. "Can't believe you're hitting that. She's fucking gorgeous" and then Negan turns to him, his smile a charming grim, and presses his thumb against Rick's pink, furrowed lips. "Aw. Don't worry Rick. She's lucky too. You pretty thing." 

 

(When Rick rediscovered kisses within Michonne's lips, in the soft, dark plumpness of her mouth, all those months of savagery melted away in blessed moments, and all his blood and all his death were somewhat vindicated. He would never be mellow again but with her, in that couch, in the creeping evening of a good day, he could at least be human. 

Negan bullies the beast out of him.) 

 

Something delicate beneath the traumatised skin. His pants slip off so easily, down those narrow hips, down those famished thighs. Rick is toned but he’s lacking, graceful and thin like a wolf gone hungry. Negan could just carry him if he wanted to, just throw him over his shoulders or take his body in his arms like a bride, one arm under his knees, the other on his back. Rick is light enough for that, but he would trash around, be a nuisance, make ‘em fall face first.

(and Negan was just trying to play romantic.)

Still.

He has Rick willingly enough. Humans are messy things. You can spell lust the same way you spell weakness and spell both as inevitable. Whatever madness is this, it’s not to be carried alone.

Rick’s wearing one of his hideous farmer’s shirts and Negan makes quick work of it ripping it off easily, enjoying it too, like he usually does when wrecking Rick’s things, Rick himself, not too much, just enough not to be forgotten. He smiles. Around Rick’s right nipple there’s a crow of tiny red thorns, almost as pink as the nipple itself. Michonne has small, beautiful white teeth.

“You kinky fucks” Negan voices his glee, palming the other man’s torso “she marked you anywhere else?”

“You get off on that?” Rick asks, his mouth turning into a shadow of a smile, too mocking to be one.

“Hell yeah!” Negan answers, proud, while Rick unbuckles his belt, daft hands turning reckless by his eagerness “I was hoping for a little taste on that camera, because damn, you two are fucking __beautiful.__ ”

No reply from Rick, which Negan doesn’t mind because the man is now mouthing at his cock, his back bare and sinuous, a map of Michonne’s conquests. His hand on those curls now, and Rick’s mouth on him, stretched wide around his girth, a moan choked back, lost against his skin. Not only the vertical flames of nails markings, no, Michonne bit him too, all the way down to his tailbone as far as Negan can see. Maybe further. Maybe she has opened him up on her fingers like Negan will, maybe she had him begging for it to be harder, deeper. It’s a lot, the picturing of this and Rick’s present state, and if Negan is not careful he might come too soon. But he taunts himself and Rick along with him, opening his mouth and spilling the filth of his mind, while Rick’s cheeks hollow around his erection.

“Does she ride you, Rick? I bet she does, I bet she tightens her pussy around your dick until you can’t take it anymore and you wanna blow your load inside her but she won’t let you, oh, not until she comes first--” There’s a light hint of teeth against his tongue, a painless warning that makes Negan laugh. Rick looks at him and his eyes are angry – full of lust too, the horndog – beneath his eyelashes. “C’mon sweetheart. You know I’m playing. And you have no right to be jealous, have you? Not with a mouthful of my cock.”

Rick doesn’t answer, instead he licks at his slit, mouth closing around Negan’s cockhead as if on a lollipop and Negan knows he won’t last. He pulls him by the hair. Back to those eyes so blue, so blue like teaspoons of sky (and here he pictures Michonne’s too, black as if the midnight was poured into her).

Rick produces a sound so pretty and unlike him, a moment of weakness, like he misses having Negan’s cock ramming into his throat. Negan feels that odd, fleeting fondness he has for things still beautiful. It’s a tale of jealously, he knows it, even as he lays the other man on the bed and pours lube on his fingers. __He__ misses feeling more than the constant, gleeful indifference towards a world increasingly uglier or the never-ending needs of his cock. Rick and Michonne, probably just as wrecked as he is, are still capable of sweeter things. He admires them, and envies them too. It’s just a piece that he robs – the one made of Rick’s spread legs, his tight, clenching hole when Negan’s fingers spear him, the sounds he presses against Negan’s mouth when they kiss like they’re lovers.

“ _ _Oh,__  look at you, such a pretty bitch, taking my fingers like a pro. Goddamn it Rick, you got the tightest ass I ever fucked.” Negan says, the greatest appreciator of his own voice, of the dirt of his own words. “Michonne screws you like this? She fucks you open like the slut you are? Or is this for daddy’s eyes only?”

Rick, expectedly, groans in annoyance.

“Will you shut the fuck up,” he says, just a tint of breathlessness in his voice “and fuck me already?”

And wasn’t Negan thinking about doing just that since the very first day – the very first night?

“So eager, sweetheart. Don’t worry,” the curve of Rick’s knees over his shoulders now, and his cock kissing that tight, sweet hole “Daddy’s gonna give you what you need.”

They fuck.

And one day, perhaps, they shall do in blood what is now kisses, what is a mockery of sweetness They don’t make love, Negan fucks hard and Rick gives himself to him with all his teeth and nails. Still, they both will come out alive of this. Breathless and covered in cum, eyes blown fucking wide as the world gathers itself again in their brains. They will be alive. But one day it might be a knife, a gun to the head, and whatever it is that exists between them, this fucked up intensity, might end faster than an orgasm.

Maybe. Maybe it’s just Negan. The endless constant of sex and death of his days.

He doesn’t smoke but he aches for one right now. Something about the rite of it, as if his lungs were the offering, a moment of silence for the joys of the living. Something about being grateful for having legs and arms and a body and a cock in a world where it’s so easy to lose these things. He’d be alone in this improbable sanctity. Rick never lingers: there he is already, wincing slightly from being fucked good (Negan has a big cock and is, obviously, quite proud of it) and putting on his pants, trying to find his belt. He probably cuddles with Michonne. Probably kisses the back of her neck and thinks he’s blessed. Negan pictures the three of them in the same bed, and his spent cock twitches in sympathy.

“Let’s do this again sometime,” Negan purrs, as Rick buckles his belt “bring Michonne.”

“If I don’t kill you first,” Rick answers, good-humoured in the post-coitus but still sharp on the edges, some of that cold fury still lingering in his eyes “maybe.”

“You’ve been saying that for a while, darlin. I think I’ve grown on you.”

Perhaps he has. But Rick is done getting dressed and doesn’t answer.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very sorry. I hope you liked it.


End file.
